Lie to Me
by TheJavaGirls
Summary: Though the Second War had begun, it seems that life still continues to go on. There are personal demons to face. Lies and deceits to endure. But the hardest part is finding where the line in the sand is drawn. Can two enemies find a way to make sense of i
1. Chapter 1

12 Grimauld Place was a beehive of activity. Members of the Order flew in and out during all hours of the day and night. Talking was reserved to hushed, urgent tones. Witches and Wizards from all around the globe gathered under the same roof. Putting aside their differences, as they worked side by side trying to obtain the same goal. The Second War had begun and no one had any intention of losing. Sadly, neither did the other side.

The atmosphere was tense. Everyone waiting for news on the next Muggle or Mudblood attack. It was expected, now that Lord Voldermort's return was revealed. Denial burned away as memories from years ago brought a wave of terror on the Magical Community. It hadn't taken long after the Daily Prophet announced the happenings at the Ministry when the Dark Lord's name appeared on headlines through out the world.

Instead of alerting the Magical Community, educating on ways to keep themselves and their loved ones safe, the articles stroked the fires in an already tense society. Creating levels of paranoia and hysteria to dangerous extremes.

At times, the hysteria caused more harm than any Death Eater ever could.

Neighbors, suddenly became suspicious of one another. While damaging rumors flowed like wine around the pub and hearth. Old wounds, long ago healed, were ripped wide open. Anxiety had everyone, young and old, jumping at unexplainable noises that went bump in the middle of the night.

Voldermort didn't possess the power to destroy the Magical World the way paranoia did. At the moment all the Dark Lord had to do was sit back and wait until the dust settled. Before taking advantage of their weakened state.

If it weren't for the relentless drive of the Order there would've been massive mayhem. Or at least this was what Hermione had been told her first night back at the Order's Headquarters. Pretty much all at once. As Harry, Ron and Ginny lounged around the parlor each of them filling her in on what she'd missed over the summer.

After his mandatory time at the Dursley's, Harry had escaped the suffocating imprisonment of Private Drive. Joining Ron and Ginny at the Order's Headquarters, under the eagle eye of Mrs. Weasley. They'd spent the majority of the summer clearing the Black house of all remaining memorabilia that had been cursed by the previous occupents. But not with out a few close calls and near misses.

They told her of the attacks. The very ones she'd been reading about all summer long. In the relative safety of her home. Like the big fat coward she was. No one really talked about what had happened before school had let out for holiday. Not in actually words. They'd skirt the topic, but when the conversation strayed too close to dangerous territory they would either become extremely vague or quickly avert and go the opposite direction.

No one was ready to talk about the death of Sirus Black. Or the fact that they all had come way too close to dying.

"You should've seen his face." Shaking his head, Ron face held an amused expression, his voice snapping Hermione out of her thoughts. "I swear Snape was going to explode when Dumbledore invited us to their last meeting."

"You got to attend one of the meetings?" Frowning, Hermione looked at her friends feeling as though she'd missed a large portion of the conversation.

"That's what we've been saying." Looking over at Harry, Ron raised a brow at him before turning back to Hermione. "Are you feeling alright, you seem . . . off."

"Ron!" Jabbing her older brother in the ribs, Ginny narrowed her eyes when he opened his mouth to respond.

Clearing his throat, Harry shifted on the couch. "Dumbledore feels there's no reason to bar us from the meetings, considering what happened last spring."

"Something about our ability to land into more trouble by being kept in the dark." Ginny added.

"Mum was none too pleased." Shaking his over the memory of the fit his Mother threw, Ron flushed.

"W-What about Fred and George?" The palms of her hands started to sweat and Hermione cringed when the tea cup she was holding started to shake.

Her friends frowned slightly before changing the subject. "They're making a killing." Ron shook her head sadly. "The store is a smashing success."

"That's great." Clearly not understanding Ron, Hermione looked over at Ginny. "What's wrong with that."

"Mum is still smarting over Fred and George dropping out. She's besides herself." Ginny answered. "And with them being part of the Order now . . . Well lets just say it's tense."

Still looking put out, Ron sighed. "She hasn't even let us pop in for a visit."

"You haven't been to the joke shop yet?" Clearly surprised, Hermione could see by her friends expressions that it was a particularly sore subject. "What about Percy?"

This time both Weasley's paled and looked away, unable to meet her eyes. Harry looked uncomfortable. "He was fired from the Ministry."

"What?" Choking from the tea she'd been carefully sipping, Hermione gasped for air. "Why?"

"No one's talking." Harry answered slowly, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "You thought last year was bad. It doesn't even come close."

A spark of curiosity ignited in her head, but it didn't last long. "Oh. Well." Sucking in a deep breath, Hermione reminded herself it was none of her business. "That's too bad."

"Lupin?" Molly Weasley hurried into the room. "Oh! I'm sorry dears. Don't mind me, I was just looking for Lupin. Seems another Boggert found it's way into the Armoire in the blue room upstairs." Her forced smile seemed to falter some as memories from the previous summer came flooding back. "I could just take care of it I suppose."

"We'll do it." Harry gave Ron's Mother an understanding smile. His face was eager from wanting to do something, anything to make things easier for her.

"No." Mrs. Weasley gushed. "The four of you have a lot of catching up to do. It's an easy enough chore."

Already standing, Ron reached for the wand inside his pocket. "Don't worry about it Mum. We've got it."

Hermione bit down on her lower lip and contemplated on staying where she was at. The others were more than capable of taking care of the Boggart. It was silly. The spell was easy and it wasn't as though she'd never done it before.

"Hermione you look a tad peeked." With the concern only a Mother could show, Mrs. Weasely fretted.

"N-No." Standing up and straightening her clothing, Hermione scolded herself on her lack of nerves. With a shaking grin in Mrs. Weasley's direction, Hermione started after her friends. "Just the excitement I guess."

Following from behind Hermione stopped at the bottom of the stairs and watched as Harry, Ron and Ginny climbed to the second floor. It was apparent that the three of them had grown closer over the summer. Making her feel a little left out. Not that she had anyone to blame but herself. She'd been invited to join them earlier in the summer and every week after that. But each time she'd found some excuse, some reason why she couldn't be there with them.

At first she'd begged off the holiday by claiming her Grandparents were in town. Not that she'd been lying, well not much anyhow. By the time she'd received the owl with Ron's almost illegible handwriting, her Grandparents were ready to depart within days. Then there was the trip with her parents. What did it matter that it'd only been for a weekend get away? After that her replies had become vague. Fortunately the invites had stopped, until last week when Mrs. Weasley had written to her parents saying she was more than welcome to stay the last week of summer with them. Out of excuses and out of time, Hermione was forced to face facts.

She was a complete fraud.

There was a time when she viewed herself as being a strong, independent young woman. With a set of beliefs she'd lived by relentlessly. Top of her class, and vain enough to bask in that small glory. Much good all her knowledge did her at the Ministry last Spring.

"Hermione dear?" Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Hermione was startled out of her dark thoughts. Spinning around, she found herself staring in the questioning eyes of Molly Weasley. "Are you sure there's not something wrong?"

"What?" Blinking a few times, Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot. "No. I -."

A look of understanding crossed over the older woman's features. "If you don't feel up to it, you can join me in the kitchen."

"'Mione?" Standing at the top of the landing, her friends waited.

Licking her lips, she felt her heart pounding painfully against in her chest. "I'm fine. Really. But thank you." Unable to look Mrs. Weasley in the eye, Hermione brushed past her and up the stairs. Each step harder than the last.

"When the four of you are done with that I want you to come down and help with supper." Hurrying off at the sound of someone calling her from the kitchen, Ron waited until his Mother was out of view before he started to complain.

"It's been like this all summer." His mouth twisted. "This is the first real fun we've had in weeks."

"But I though you said you guys have been invited to the meetings." Ignoring the way her mouth turned dry as they made their way to the room that held the Boggart, Hermione forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath.

This time it was Harry who looked mulish. "Yeah, but it's not like we're actually doing anything. We've been locked inside the house over the summer."

"I'm sure it's only to keep you safe." She should've known her comment would have her on the receiving end of three dark scowls. "Well you all said yourselves earlier that the attacks are getting worse."

"But there hasn't been any attack in weeks." Ginny countered. "It's not like we haven't proven we can take care of ourselves."

"If you remember, this isn't the most cheerful place on the face of the earth . . ." Quickly trailing off, Ron cast a quick glance toward Harry before turning an interesting shade of purple.

"Ron it's all right." His tone sincere, Harry sent Ron a wobbly grin that didn't quiet reach his eyes. He'd been talking with Lupin over the summer, when time permitted. They'd spoken about Sirus and his untimely death. It wasn't as though he accepted his Godfather's passing. Far from it. But he was working on letting go some of the guilt that had been eating away at his soul.

"I can't remember the last time I saw the sun." Ginny grumbled.

Heading down the hallway, Ron lowered his voice when they passed Mrs. Black's portrait. One of the most stubborn pictures in the house that was proving to be a bother removing. "I'd give a month's allowance to have the chance to de-gnome the garden."

"I'd clean Dudley's room for a week to be able to get some time on my Firebolt."

Hermione, Ron and Ginny paused midstride and caught the smirk that crossed Harry's mouth.

"You almost had me going there." Shaking his head, Ron opened the door to the guest room and lead the way in. The large mahogany armoire in the corner sounded as though there was a spitting mad wet cat stuck inside. Waiting for Ginny to close the door, Ron returned his tone back to normal. "You can't be that desperate . . . yet."

"So who wants to take care of it?" His hand in his pocket where his wand was at, Harry looked over at the others.

Ron and Ginny also looked eager, but tried to act as though they weren't. "Whoever mate."

"What about you Hermione?" Ginny looked over her shoulder to where Hermione was standing near the door.

"No." Cringing at her abrupt reply, Hermione licked at her dry lips. The armoire rattled again and a cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. The room had grown increasingly warmer.

If her answer shocked them, they did a great job of hiding it. Ron only shrugged his shoulders. Harry brought out his wand, while Ginny rolled up her sleeves.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione was happy to be able to stand back and let the others deal with the annoying Boggart. Or at least until the dark doors sprung open and out stepped a dark clad figure wearing the mask of a Death Eater.

It was the last thing she saw before crumbling to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

"Draco." Narcissa Malfoy strode into the room and looked disapprovingly at the blonde young man sitting hunched over a desk on the other side. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

Turning the page of the book he'd been reading, Draco grunted out his reply. Not that there was really any need, he knew she would catch him sooner or later, he just assumed it would've been sooner. Apparently Mother was slipping in her mental state. Hearing his Mother let out a long breath he could almost picture her schooling her features into a look of pure boredom. Something she had to do a lot more as of late.

"Is it too much to ask for you to follow the one simple rule I've given you this summer?"

"Which one are you referring to this time, Mother?" Turning the page back to the previous one he'd been reading, Draco frowned before scribbling down a few notes.

In one quick stride Narcissa was directly behind her only son and grabbed the book he'd been reading. Ignoring his cry of outrage, she tossed it over onto the settee. "You snuck out last night. I have explained to you a thousand times how important it was that we keep a low profile."

Balling his hands into fists on the desk top, Draco fought to swallow the harsh words that were threatening to spill off his tongue. "Which is why I didn't announce my departure."

"Your behavior is offensive Draco and I will no longer tolerate it." Narcissa sniffed.

Pushing himself out of his chair, Draco turned on his Mother. The woman standing in front of him was a dim reminder of the beautiful woman she once had been. Her once glorious blonde hair that had cascaded down her shoulders now hung in limp heaps. Gone was the glow of health, eaten away by her whatever demons were eating away at her soul.

Worst of all, she showed signs of weakness. And if there was one lesson he'd learned from his Father, was that weakness was not tolerated in the Malfoy family.

His lips twisted into a sneer. "Do you know what I find offensive, Mother?" Sweeping his hands out wide, Draco let his eyes roam around the hotel suite that had been their him for the last week. "Staying in a bloody Muggle hotel. Being surrounded by disgusting no bodies who stare at us like we're freaks. I'm sick of leaving in the middle of the night to travel -."

"We were being followed." The fire left his Mother's eyes and the wary expression he despised replaced it.

"Really?" Folding his arms across his chest, Draco eyed her with barely concealed contempt.

Sick and tired of being jerked around Europe by a woman who was clearly was on her way to one helluva melt down, Draco was almost to the point where he could give a rat's ass if she ended up in St. Mungos. If there had been any doubt left in his mind that Narcissa Malfoy was crazy as a fox, their last pit stop on her psychotic holiday from hell confirmed it. If Father could see them now.

"Don't speak to me in that tone." Apparently some of his Mother was still in there. "I'm doing this to keep us safe."

"We were safe. At Malfoy Manner. Remember that large stone fortress we once called home?" Growing bored with the conversation already, Draco turned on his heel and headed back to the mountain of books on the desk. "I also had a life there."

He could feel his Mother's eyes follow him, and he braced himself. "If your Father were here he would never allow you to speak to me in this manner."

"If my Father was here we wouldn't be having this discussion." Draco's tone was flat. Knowing that talking to her when she got paranoid was useless. Sitting back down again to finish the chapter he was on, Draco picked up his pen only to have his Mother's voice make him pause.

"There's no need in getting too comfortable. I've given the House elves instruction to pack our things. We'll be leaving in the hour."

His blood started to furn through his veins. "No."

"Excuse me?"

"I said no." Slamming his hand on the corner of the desk, Draco had no idea the picture he made. He'd grown over the summer. Filled out across his chest and shoulders. Hours of Quiditch practice he had to sneak in at night, had turned his soft-pampered body into well defined muscle. His hair had grown out, brushing his collar. Mostly out of neglect than a fashion statement. But the most startling change was how his once cherub face had leaned down. His cheeks bones and square jaw took on a ruggedly handsome air.

"How dare you -!"

"I dare Mother." He couldn't take it any longer. "I've had enough. I have done as you asked all summer, to the best of my ability. But the insanity stops here. School starts in a week and once I'm gone you can play your little games as you see fit. You can travel through out Europe for all I care."

"You listen to me -."

Taking a step closer to the woman he was once thought was the most perfect creature on earth, Draco felt his stomach twist. Damn his Father for putting him in this position. The man's stupidity for aligning himself with a Wizard who was bested by a child put a sour taste in his mouth. Anyone with half their wits could see that in the end the Dark Lord was going to fail again. Apparently his mother wasn't the only insane member in the family.

"Enough." Draco said this in a way he'd heard his Father use on several occasions. "I said no. Now leave me. I have work to do."

His Mother stood there staring at him. Her eyes narrowed briefly as a sad look played across her face. "Your Father would be pleased."

"Thank you." Discarding her from his mind, Draco almost missed her softly spoken words.

"I didn't say it was a good thing."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione didn't want to talk about the incident. Or have to walk into a room and have the occupants fall into an uncomfortable silence. She didn't like the way her friends watched her every move from the corner of their eyes. It made her feel like a squirming little bug under a magnifying glass. It was humiliating how she fainted over some silly boggart. Not even Neville fainted their third year. Her ego was bruised and her self-confidence at an all time low.

The 'Brightest Witch of her Age' was sent into a fainting spell over some harmless boggart. The only bright spot was that she humiliated herself in front of her friends rather than someone else. If something so stupid and unforgivable happened in front of those prats in Slytherin, she imagined she'd be wrinkled and cleaning her teeth in a jar before she lived it down.

Sighing, Hermione stared listlessly out the window in the room she shared with Ginny. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool pane of glass. The moon had a red ring, giving the night an eery glow.

She needed to get a grip. If she didn't let go of the creeping anxiety churning in her stomach she was going to have a hole the size of a number nine cauldron in it. No one else seemed to be as effected by the confrontation last spring. So why was she? Harry didn't jump at unexpected sounds, almost wetting himself in the process. Ron wasn't failing miserably at first year spells. And by the soft snoring coming from Ginny's bed, Hermione doubted the youngest Weasley was suffering from nightmares.

Since last spring her nights had been haunted by visions of dark robes and glistening silver masks. Luicus Malfoy's silky voice slithered around her head. It wound its way down her windpipe, constricting until she woke up gasping for breath. Every night, it was the same. After three months gone without a night of peace, she had hoped she would tire of the Death Eaters' threats and intimidating taunts. Instead the nightmares took on a life of their own -- pulling her back in time to that night.

Merlin, they had been stupid. So utterly and completely out of their minds. She had nearly died because of poor judgement. And for what? It had all been a trap. Sirius was dead. The prophecy had been destroyed. All because they had had to charge off into battle. Six teenagers armed with wands and a handful of spells.

It'd been reckless and foolish. They had been lucky. Something Hermione seriously doubted would continue through the war.

"Hermione?" The creaking of bedsprings had Hermione looking over her shoulder. Struggling to a sitting position, Ginny rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." Wiping her sweating palms on her nightdress, Hermione fidgeted for a moment under Ginny's curious eyes.

"You haven't slept well for the last two nights." Fully awake, the youngest Weasley appeared to have something to say. Conflict flicked across her shadowed face then vanished. Having come to sort of decision, the sleepy looking redhead fingered the bedspread. "I won't push. But, if you want to talk about it … not that you have anything to talk about … I mean …" Ginny sighed and shook her head. "I'm not really good at being subtle. Something to do with being a Weasley."

"Thank you, Ginny." Hermione whispered with sincerity. If there was anything that could have eased a portion of the tension out of Hermione's body, it was Ginny's straightforward honesty. It was an enormous relief from the whispering she knew was going on behind her back.

"When I'm ready – that is to say if there's something I need to talk about," A whisper of a smile played across her lips and Hermione felt better than she had in months. "You'll be the first person I talk to."

Ginny shoved the blanket from her, swung her legs over the side of the bed and shoved her feet into a pair of worn slippers. "I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

It felt as though a two-ton elephant had been lifted from her chest. Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "I feel like I haven't eaten in ages."

Ginny's mouth quirked into a knowing smirk. "That's because you haven't. Let's go see if there is any of Mum's pudding left."

The two girls headed down to the kitchen in comfortable silence. They went down the stairs at a quick gait, until Ginny stopped and pulled sharply on Hermione's sleeve. She motioned with her head to the bottom of the steps, a finger to her lips.

Voices floated up to the shadows where the two girls eavesdropped. Neither had try very hard in recognizing the angry female voice. Molly Weasley's blistering tone was one both had witnessed on many an occasion. The soothing and reassuring voice trying to calm down the angry monarch belonged to Mr. Weasley as he tried fruitlessly to pacify his wife.

Hermione and Ginny eyed one another and with a look, both tiptoed down a few stairs, careful to stay in the shadows and out of sight.

"I will not have it." Mrs. Weasley spat. "I can't believe the two of you would even consider it."

"Molly, please just hear us out." Arthur Weasley begged his wife. "The children have been locked up all summer. They need to get out."

"Fine." His wife replied. "We'll take them to the country on an outing. But I won't agree to taking them to Diagon Alley. It's far to dangerous."

"I rarely go against you on anything, Molly." Arthur's manner was almost apologetic, but the undertone of his words left no doubt that he wasn't backing down. "I already informed Dumbledore the children would be going."

Ginny made a face over being referred to as a child. A stigma both females knew they would never out grow when it came to the Weasley parents.

"Dumbledore has taken extra precautions. Owls were sent out inviting all students and parents for a day of carefree shopping. There will be Aurors in every shop and stationed on the street. There won't be a safer place in London."

"Arthur, no." Both girls felt their stomachs clinch in excitement at Mrs. Weasley's relenting tone.

"Molly the children need something normal to grasp onto. More now then ever before. We can't hide them away forever, it's just not fair to them. You know better than anyone what happens when children get bored."

Silence descended and the girls held their breath waiting for Mrs. Weasley's decision.

Finally she spoke. "I'll agree, only if Dumbledore promises every precaution has been taken."

"He has. I promise you, Molly. Everything will be fine." Clearly relieved that he didn't have to argue the night away, excitement crept Arthur Weasley's voice. "I can't wait to tell them over breakfast."

"Oh? I don't think it will take that long for them to hear find out." Molly Weasley replied in a knowing tone. " I do know my children."

Diagon Alley was teeming with back to school shoppers. Families milled along the walkways, wandering in and out of shops with their heavy purchases weighing them down. It was the most activity the London shops had seen all summer. With the return of the Dark Lord and the danger his reincarnation brought, customers had become scarce.

In record high temperature, the sun beat down on the crowd made the already cramped alley unbearable. Tension from uneasy adults and the sauna like climate put everyone in a nasty state of mind. Bickering with store patrons over high prices was becoming a common trend. Mothers and fathers who under any other circumstances were known for soft tones and understanding ways, were reduced to shrieking banshees over the slightest misdeed their sweaty and uncomfortable children had made.

For all Draco Malfoy could care, the crowds could start a bloody riot over the last Squeaking Nizbee in the Weasley's pathetic store. To him, the day was a smashing success. It was the first time since school ended that he had tasted freedom. For one blessed day, he was free of that retched Muggle hotel with its tasteless furniture and used bedclothes. It was truly sickening -- everything from the nasty foil covered objects those frumpy muggles left on his pillows to the mind-numbing drone of the Muggle created climate control.

Ignoring the damp collar hanging limply around his neck, and the way the back of his hair stuck unpleasantly to him, Draco made his way down the walkway. He had known his black cashmere cape was too much, but he simply couldn't resist. The way the smooth cut flowed down his body, made him feel like a Malfoy. Rich. Powerful. In control. After being shut away from the world for almost three months, looking good meant everything.

Sadly his Mother didn't feel the same. Her robes were hideously out of date. The brown rags hung from her body. Her hair was pulled back from her face so severely that she almost looked like a younger version of that prune faced McGonagall. So when she had told him she had a few errands to run when they arrived, Draco didn't think twice before turning his back on her and stalking away.

"Malfoy." Draco turned at the call of his name. He watched as Crabbe, Goyle and Nott wove their way through the crowd, growling and glaring at anyone who dared cross their path. When the three finally reached him, Crabbe and Goyle had sweat dripping off their meaty faces as they fought to catch their breath.

"Where the hell have you been?" Asked Nott, his ugly face took on an insulted expression. "I owled you at least fifty times this summer. The owls kept coming back unanswered."

"You know how it is." Draco drawled, his face a picture of pure boredom. "So much of Europe to see in so little time."

"Traveling huh?" Nott looked skeptical. "You sure it wasn't more like hiding?"

Narrowing his eyes, Draco felt as though he had been punched in the gut. "What in the bloody hell are you talking about?"

"Not that I blame you." Nott grumbled. "After the first notice of Banishment came I really wished my Mum had been smart enough to empty our vaults and take off too."

This time Draco felt the blood from his face drain to his feet. Not appreciating the implication of Nott's careless and stupid words. After his mother's outlandish behavior over the summer, he wondered if perhaps something was amiss. Perhaps more than just his mother's mental state. "What are you muttering about?"

"We've been turned into piranhas." Offered Crabbe, finally able to speak in-between gulps of air.

"Excuse me?" Staring at his childhood acquaintance, Draco turned a puzzled gaze over to Nott.

"I think what our feebleminded friend is trying to say is that we are about as popular as a group of Mudbloods covered in goblin shit." Nott looked around nervously before motioning Draco to follow him over to a spot that was less crowded than the middle of the walkway. "Things are getting bad."

"Yeah Malfoy, real bad." Goyle nodded.

"Fudge froze our families assets. We've been chucked out of Wauldborn. I think my Mum would have sold me to get back into that stuffy old country club." Nott's lip curled. "No one wants to be around us. Scared they'll been seen as Death Eater sympathizers."

Draco stood staring, unable to come up with the words to adequately express his horror. He knew without a doubt that the three fools standing in front of him could never be clever enough come up with something of this magnitude. Unlike Crabbe and Goyle though, Nott had his moments that closely resembled intelligence. But, the instances were rare and could never be counted on.

"No one would dare snub the Malfoy family." The thought in itself was ludicrous. "My Grandfather would never put up with such disrespect."

Nott gave Draco a surly look. "Malfoy our families are on the black list, and I don't mean your family tree."

"This is all Potter's fault." Balling his fists in his cloak, Draco fought to control the simmering rage that threatened to turn into a burning inferno. The outcome never had him coming out on top.

"Don't forget Granger." Said Goyle.

"And the Weasleys." Mumbled Crabbe. "I hate that family."

"They are going to pay this year." Nott growled. "For once I cannot wait until school starts. I plan on making their lives a living hell."

"No." Draco snapped, ignoring their stupid, lack jawed expressions. He had worked too hard over the summer to have these imbeciles ruin everything. "We aren't going to do anything to them. In fact, as far as I'm concerned they don't even exist."

"Are you kidding?"

"Tell me Nott, do you remember what it felt like being turned into a mutated slug and shoved onto the luggage rack?" Questioned Draco. "Well I do. I have had to endure one humiliation after another at that second rate school. This year is going to be different." The three boys looked bewildered, not quite comprehending what the tall blonde was saying.

Nott's face screwed up, making him look as though he had been eating a bowl of lemons. "Aren't we going to make Potter pay for what he did to our fathers?"

"No." Draco growled. It wasn't that he didn't place the majority of the blame on Scarhead, because Draco did. However, he had had a few months to own up to the fact that his dear old pop was as much to blame because of Lucius' poor alliance.

"What about the Sleasley's?" Goyle muttered. "We can't make fun of how poor they are?"

"That's getting tiresome." Draco sneered and rolled his eyes. "I would think, that if we were to make fun of them, we could come up with something a bit more original."

Crabbe looked uncomfortable, but cleared his throat and spoke anyway. "Can't we at least pick on Granger? I hate that little know it all."

"Crabbe, if you were to hate everyone who knew more than you, you wouldn't have a parchment long enough to list all their names." Draco also had serious doubt the tub of lard would be able to spell half of them.

"Not even her teeth?" Looking pitifully sad, Crabbe clung on to one last hope.

"There's nothing wrong with her teeth anymore, you nitwit." The one and only time Draco had been able to out hex that pain in his arse, she still had come out on top.

Exasperated, and clearly not in the mood to explain himself, Draco decided it would be best to just let it go. They didn't have the mental capacity to understand why he had forced himself to read through books that made his head hurt and bored him to tears. Or the hours he had spent perfecting his wand movements and spells. They might grasp onto why he would sneak out, late at night, to practice his Quidditch skills. Everything he had done over the summer had a purpose, a reason. He was not going to let anyone ruin this for him.

"Too bad." Nodding down the street, Nott's upper lip curled up into a sneer. "Potter."

Whipping his head around, Draco spotted Saint Potter across the street outside Florean Fortesque's Ice-Cream Parlour. The Golden Boy, apple of Dummydore's eye, was sitting under one of the umbrella-covered tables with his little group of followers.

"I said we were going to leave him be." It was a lot harder to follow through on his new resolve than he thought it would be. Hoards of insults and hexes came to mind. Instead, he turned his back and sneered. "I have better things to do than worry over what Potty and the freaks are doing."

Clearly not happy with Draco's decision, but smart enough not to go against anything he said, the three gave one last glare at the group down the street before trotting after Draco.

"I thought this would be more fun." Ron halfheartedly shoved another large scoop of melting ice cream in his mouth.

Hermione looked around the crowded street and spotted a handful of Aurors, not counting the three who had been their personal shadows for the day. In the beginning she had felt extremely safe and assured by the attention they were receiving. Soon that feeling faded as the crowds thickened and sweltering temperatures hiked from tolerable to insane. Now she was a sweaty irritable mess and she was starting to despise the intrusive glances.

The humidity did absolutely nothing for her already out of control hair. Unable to take another moment of the massive weight hanging on her neck, she gathered most of it in a very untidy mess on the top of her head. Her robes, the lightest one she owned felt as like one of the lead aprons her parents used for x-rays. The summer dress underneath clung to her body, making her uncomfortable.

Hermione sighed and looked at her melting treat and wished she were back at Grimmauld Place. Ron was right. They had thought the day would have turned out to be more fun and give them a chance to shake off the awkwardness that seemed to settle around them. Whether it was from her inability to talk about last school term, or the lock down they were being kept under until their return to Hogwarts.

"At least Fred and George's shop was fun." Ginny offered miserably.

"Are you kidding?" Giving up on the soupy mess in front of him, Ron dropped his spoon in disgust. "There were so many people packed in there, I was starting to feel like a sardine."

"So what now?" Harry leaned back in his seat. His hair, which was usually a fly away mess, hung around his head lifelessly.

"We could try ditching our private little army." Ron grumbled.

Though the idea perked their spirits slightly, none had the gumption to actually try. First it was too bloody hot. The second, Mrs. Weasley would make Professor Snape look like a jolly old Saint Nick.

"Right now I could care less where we go." Said Ron. "As long as it's out of the bloody sun."

"There are a few books I would like to pick up at Flourish and Blotts." Hermione braced herself for the boys' predictable groans of displeasure, but after a shared look and a moment's consideration they both quickly agreed.

Not really wanting to leave the mocking shade of the covered table, the group quickly made their way across the cobbled street. Almost to the other side, Harry stopped and his body tensed instantly.

"What?" Hermione asked as she nearly collided into him and frowned. Looking in the direction Harry was staring, she felt her mouth go dry. Crabbe and Goyle stood only ten feet away. Their faces showed anger boiling under their skin. "Should we go back?"

"Are you kidding?" Ron laughed. "We have four Aurors following us. I would love to see those two twits try something."

"Ron's right." Harry nodded and started walking to the shop. His gaze never wavered from the two over grown apes. "But, we won't have the Aurors at Hogwarts. We're going to have to watch our backs this year."

"And that's different than usual, how?" Ginny cast a curious glace over her shoulder, as the two Slytherins were swallowed by the crowd.

"The Slytherins are going to go for the jugular this year instead of our petty little differences." Hermione tucked a damp curl behind her ear.

"So much for that solidarity crap." Ron shook his head as he opened the door. "Not like it would have ever worked."

"Well it doesn't help matters when we're all having a go at one another." The old Hermione snapped, making her three friends share a smile with one another. "The more we pull apart, the harder the war is going to be."

Ron and Harry let out a long sigh at the cooler temperature as they walked into the bookshop. "Let's go downstairs. It's bound to even cooler down there." Ron led the way as the boys disappeared.

"Do you think it is cooler down there?" Ginny asked and looked wistfully towards the stairs.

"Probably." The girls didn't wait long before making a hasty retreat to the lower level of the shop. The basement was windowless to keep some of the older books away from the sun. Usually Hermione didn't bother herself with this part of the store. She found it to be the resting ground for the books that were out of date or so full of old fashioned nonsense it was a waste of her time. But if it meant not having to suffer the heat, she wasn't one to complain.

"It's creepy down here." Apparently Ginny didn't have such qualms. Rubbing her arms, the youngest Weasley took a look around. Her eyes were wide and unsure.

"Come on." Feeling a shiver run down her spine, Hermione pulled on Ginny's sleeve. "The boys are probably already camped out in the back." Hurrying along the rows of books, the two girls went deeper into the stacks until they found Harry and Ron. It didn't surprise them to find Harry and Ron in the Sports section. Books filled the shelves and had ludicrous titles such as Quidditch: Think like the snitch and Quidditch: Find your inner bludger. Even more inane, was the fact that Harry and Ron were reading them.

"I'll be over in the Potions section." Hermione doubted she would find anything of much interest, but had a feeling that if she stayed where she was, the books would start sucking away at her intelligence.

Another reason she disliked the basement of the shop was how close the shelves became the farther back she went. Like Ginny had so eloquently said, the place was down right creepy. It brought back memories of another dark creepy place. Hermione had to take a deep breath before she forced herself to keep going.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione exclaimed. "You're being a silly twit. It's just a bookshop. Nothing bad is going to happen. Get a hold of yourself, girl."

"I knew there was something terribly wrong with you, Granger." A sickeningly familiar drawl came from behind and had her swallowing her tongue. "What with your putrid blood, tasteless friends and bushy hair. I just never imagined you were also touched in the head."

Dear Merlin, Malfoy sounded so much like his father. Pompous, silky, degrading. The only reason she didn't wet herself was the knowledge that Lucius was safely locked away. Rotting in some dank cell.

Her nails dug into her hands as Hermione clenched her fists and slowly turned around to face Draco Malfoy. "What do you want?"

"Where's your personal little honor guard?" Draco searched the shadows behind Hermione, half expecting to find Harry and Ron ready to attack.

A scathing reply stilled on her tongue. Guards. Dear Merlin, when was the last time she had seen the three Aurors that hadn't left their sides the majority of the day? Hermione fought the urge to look over her shoulder and steeled herself for Malfoy's viscous attack.

"Sod off, Malfoy." Her voice broke only the slightest. It was unfortunate for her that the Malfoy heir had also picked up on her moment of weakness. His eyes widened just the slightest and his mouth turned into a sneer before another flash of emotion went across his face. Just as quickly the sneer disappeared and was replaced by a look of total boredom.

"As much fun as it is trading words with you, I have things to do." The turnaround in the confrontation was puzzling, but Hermione wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. "See you around Mu … Granger -"

"Draco!" Hermione watched wide-eyed as Narcissa Malfoy rushed to them from the other end of the aisle. "I told you to meet me at Gringotts at four." The woman looked nothing like the stuck up priss Hermione had been forced to share a box with at the Quidditch World Cup. Gone were the expensive formal robes and sleek hairdo. Instead Mrs. Malfoy looked like someone who closely resembled Professor Trelawney in the middle of one of her ridiculous tirades.

The look of boredom slipped when his burning eyes bore into his mother. "So you said. Several times I believe. It's not even three." Narcissa didn't seem too perplexed by the manner in which her only child spoke to her, but Hermione openly gaped. "I still have a few items to pick up."

"It's not safe." Narcissa shook her head violently. "I knew better. We should never have come here." The woman's words sent a chill down Hermione's spine. Why would someone from a line like the Malfoy's feel as though they weren't safe?

"Mother." Draco spat, reaching out to latch onto his mother's arm. "Stop! Nothing is going to happen. Not here and especially not to us." Draco sneered at Hermione with a look of utter hatred. "We're purebloods. No one would dare."

"Dear Merlin, this is all my fault." Lost in some other world, Narcissa seemed completely unaware of everything as she mumbled to herself, "I knew better. But Mother said she fixed everything. She said not to worry."

For the first time all summer, Draco's interest was piqued. Swinging back to his mother, he took a step closer. "Fix what?"

"I wanted your Father so much. He had been so handsome and powerful. He was Head Boy, you know." This was so much more than one of her odd moments that she had been flitting in and out of all summer. The wild look in his Mother's eyes was enough to make Draco pause. "And Mama . . . she said not to worry. That I would get exactly what I deserved." A hysterical sob choked the older woman, soon turning into a manic laugh. "Mama doesn't know just how true her words were."

"Mrs. Malfoy?" Not quite sure why she was doing it, Hermione stepped forward. She felt Draco's hatred of her oozing from his pours.

"This doesn't concern you, Granger. Sod off." He did have a point. Knowing when she wasn't wanted or needed, Hermione gave the trembling woman one last glance before turning to leave. She stopped in mid-stride and let out a startled gasp.

At the end of the row, half hidden in the shadows loomed two large figures. From where she was standing, she could see they were dressed in long black robes. Her eyes made a beeline to their faces and she nearly fainted. Masks. They were wearing masks.

Barely aware of the terrified moan she let out, Hermione quickly backed up until she ran into something solid.

"What the bloody hell . . ." Hermione heard Malfoy's bitter words, but kept her eyes trained on the approaching figures. Her feet tried to retreat, but Draco's body blocked her escape.

Draco looked at the two figures, taking in the robes and masks. At first he assumed they were Death Eaters, and the evil thought of shoving Little Miss Know It All in their direction almost brought a smirk to his face. Nice as the thought was, something about the situation wasn't right.

The masks. They weren't right. Instead of the shiny silver he had seen hidden away in his Father's rooms, these were gold. It wasn't until his mother started to tremble behind him and her whimpering turned into uncontrollable sobs, that Draco was prompted to pull his wand from inside his robes.

"Narcissa." An unfamiliar voice hissed. "You've been a naughty little tramp."

Draco lip curled back, bearing his teeth as he took a step past Hermione. "How dare you speak that way to a Malfoy."

"Such an impertinent little shit you have raised." The figure sneered. "Don't worry. We'll teach the filthy beast some manners before we dispose of him."

"Please." Draco heard his mother pleaded, making his hand grip his wand tightly. "Let him go. He knows nothing."

This brought another round of laughter. "You want us to let the abomination live?"

Hermione tried to block the laughter out of her head. Instead, she tried to free herself from the gut wrenching fear that had paralyzed her. She told herself that hiding behind Malfoy was pathetic and not Gryffindor behavior. Each time she thought she was close to ridding herself of the terror, her eyes would fall on one of the masked figures and her heart would lodge itself in her throat again.

Malfoy and his mother sounded a million miles away. All she could hear was the rush of blood racing through her body. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until Malfoy took a heavy step back onto her foot.

"Granger." He hissed, and looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Wand."

Many different replies made their way to her tongue, but instead of bubbling forth, they stuck on the roof of her mouth.

"Get. Your. Wand. Out." Though his words were softly hissed through clenched teeth, Hermione had an odd feeling they weren't spoken in anger or his typical mockery. Reaching slowly into her robes, Hermione wrapped her fingers around the familiar polished wood that had seen her through five years.

Hermione took a deep breath and swallowed the fear and panic and forced herself to clear her head. She could hear Malfoy's mother sobbing as another masked figure taunted Mrs. Malfoy. They couldn't be that far away from Harry and the others. If she could just call out, the odds would even.

"And what do we have here?" A deep, vicious voice asked. Looking past Malfoy, Hermione gulped as one of the masks drew closer. "Ugly little thing."

"What family do you hail?" The question was snapped, showing that the figures were getting bored with their taunts.

Before she could speak, Malfoy raised his wand and pointed it the two men. "She's from the Halifax clan."

This seemed to make them pause for a moment, as they whispered to one another. Hermione desperately wanted to look at Malfoy to see what he was on about. Instead, it seemed as though the figures had come to some sort of conclusion. "She can leave."

Feeling Malfoy's hand grasp her robe and give her a jerk, Hermione swung her eyes to him and searched his features. Nothing was making sense to her. From the men surrounding them to the fact that Malfoy was not acting in a way she was accustomed to. Fear fogged her mind and made it impossible to sift through what fate had thrown in her face.

Feeling Draco pulling at her sleeve, she couldn't fathom what he was up to. He couldn't mean for her to leave unharmed.

"Hermione?" Ron's called out, sounding as though he were a hundred miles away. "I swear she went this way."

Draco swallowed the groan that threatened to slip from his lips. Did that blundering idiot ever do anything right? He kept his eyes trained on the men in front of him and watched the way their bodies tensed.

"Granger!" Another voice called out, this time more urgently.

"Think to fool us, boy?" Apparently, the masked figures weren't completely stupid.

All at once, the figures had their wands and pointed them in their direction. The buzzing inside Hermione's head hummed even louder, making it impossible to hear the spells that were coming her way. Hermione braced herself for contact as she watched a crimson light come her way. Something knocked her down from behind. From her position on the floor, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist as another body went limp from above.

Her blood felt as though it were on fire - running through her body and making her heart constrict inside her chest painfully. One last thought that ran through her mind before the darkness consumed her. Out of all the ways to die, who would have thought it would be in Draco Malfoy's arms?


End file.
